


Midnight Muse

by LaKoda0518



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Captain John Watson, Episode Fix-it, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Irene Adler Ships Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, John Watson is a Tease, M/M, Mentioned Irene Adler, POV Sherlock Holmes, Post-Episode: s02e01 A Scandal in Belgravia, Red Pants, Red Pants Monday, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Sherlock Plays the Violin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 21:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20749178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaKoda0518/pseuds/LaKoda0518
Summary: Sherlock reflects on meeting Irene Adler and what it means for his growing relationship with John Watson. However, in true Three Continents Watson fashion, John has other ideas.





	Midnight Muse

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little fix-it ficlet for ASiB based on the Red Pants Monday prompt "violin"

Sherlock stood, swaying in front of one of the large windows of their sitting room; his violin tucked under his chin as he played. The melody was heavy and brooding, yet held a touch of sadness in it's tone. It was the perfect choice for the evening. He knew it would convey his irritation and, dare he say it, self doubt after the ridiculous Adler woman case. She had bested him in the beginning; even going as far as to drug him to prove just how far she was willing to go to keep him at bay.

_ Grave mistake, that… Must work harder to focus… _

Deep down, he knew the shift in his focus had been because of John. Of course, it had been, because everything since the night the man had shot a terminally-ill cab driver to save Sherlock from his own arrogance, everything had been about John. John Watson: ex-army doctor, Sherlock's flatmate, and - more recently - his very own personal brand of Kryptonite. 

_ Kryptonite?! _

For God's sake! What was he even thinking allowing pop culture references to creep into his subconscious? Such trivial matters would clutter his mind, making less and less room for the Work! It was utterly ridiculous the effect John Watson had on him. Never in his right mind would he ever recall the word  _ 'Kryptonite',  _ but of course, there it was creeping up on him simply because John had insisted on watching an old comic book hero movie on the telly. Something about a silly sort of man with silly hair, a silly costume, and an even sillier name. 

It was preposterous that he even remembered that much about it, if he was truly honest with himself. Normally, he would delete such drivel in order to make room for bigger more important things. Yet somehow, the ridiculousness of the word  _ 'Kryptonite'  _ had stuck with him. Was it because his only true fear in this world was to show his own weaknesses? That's what the word meant after all; a silly little crystal that siphoned all of the hero's powers, making him weak and useless in the face of his enemies. 

Just as John Watson did. 

Sherlock had been bested by Irene Adler because she had seen right through him. True, she had flirted with him -  _ "At you, darling. There's a difference," she corrected in his head  _ \- but only because she had seen right through him from that first meeting. She'd seen through both of them in a matter of minutes.

_ "Somebody loves you…"  _ she'd said; her suspicions had been confirmed long before the words had even been uttered. The Woman had seen right through their sham of a friendship and had seen the truth about their relationship all from a single glance at Sherlock's face. 

John had denied the claim, of course; sticking to the script they'd kept for ages. They had wanted to keep their personal relationship private, especially with the likes of Moriarty sniffing about, but the lie had only fueled the Woman's interest. She flirted 'at' Sherlock and draped herself over him as often as she could, knowing full-well what her actions would do to John's jealous side. She had driven the poor man mad and, in turn, Sherlock had gone out of his way to showcase his intelligence and his skill in order to impress John. He had flaunted himself in order to distract John and remind John of his extraordinary talents and why the man had ever called him 'brilliant' in the first place.

Looking back, it had been utterly humiliating and Sherlock had been livid with himself for allowing her to exploit his only weakness. Whereas at one time, he had prided himself on the fact that he had no real weaknesses, he now stood corrected. John Watson and the love Sherlock felt for him would always be a weakness because Sherlock would never be able to go back to a life without John Watson. So, therefore, keeping John Watson safe and happy and cared for had shifted his primary focus from the Work to a single point of existence on the face of the Earth… and that point lay wherever John Watson's feet carried them both…

Sherlock sliced his bow across the violin strings, picking up speed and hastening the melody as he drove his point home. He had been stupid and naive, but he knew he would never be able to turn back now and he bent the notes of his current composition into a heartfelt rendition of "The Point of No Return" from The Phantom of the Opera as the lyrics flooded his mind.

_ You have brought me _

_ To that moment where words run dry _

_ To that moment where speech disappears into silence _

_ Silence _

_ I have come here _

_ Hardly knowing the reason why _

_ In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent _

_ And now I am here with you, no second thoughts _

_ I've decided, decided _

His heart raced as the music swept him away. He knew he was rushing the pace, but that was something he always did, not just in music, but in life as well. He had always steamrolled his way into the things he took an interest in; sometimes leaving a mess of debris in his wake, never pausing to take note of the casualties he left behind. He had never before cared who he hurt or what he had to do in order to get his way, but somehow things had changed. This time, he had barrelled straight into John Watson and had been met with an equally powerful driving force that had taken his breath away and had corrupted every single fibre of his being. He wasn't even sure who he was anymore…

As the song drew to a quiet close, Sherlock felt a firm hand come to rest on his shoulder.  _ _ The touch was warm and welcome, but held a touch of authority that only one person in the world could ever exert over him. 

_ John…  _

"Alright, there?" John asked, his voice soft but hesitant in the now quiet sitting room. 

Sherlock nodded without turning to look at him and placed his violin back in its case. Turning his attention to the velvet lined indentions gave Sherlock room to breathe and think. John's hand on his shoulder was comforting and grounding and it was a feeling he hoped he would never forget. It was a feeling he hoped to keep for the rest of his life and that thought alone terrified him. Subconsciously, he'd been planning a future with John; one in which they stayed together until the end of their days, puttering around 221B just as they always had. Sherlock had even gone as far as to consider retiring and giving up the Work in favor of a more quiet life with John when the time came. It was a most peculiar feeling, indeed…

Behind him, John let out a quiet chuckle and his strong arms slipped beneath Sherlock's and closed around his abdomen in a loose embrace. "Your thoughts are loud, you know?" John teased, pressing himself against Sherlock's back and pressing a kiss into the soft fabric of his silk dressing gown. 

"I'm sorry," Sherlock replied, thinking back to how loud his playing must have been. Most likely, he'd woken John up and given him cause to worry.

John laughed again, lighthearted and warm. "Dopey bugger," he said, affectionately, "No need to apologise. I just wanted to check on you. I know this case was a strange one, but it's all fine, love. You're worrying over nothing,".

With a heavy sigh, Sherlock dropped his chin to his chest and brought a hand up to cover John's where they lay clasped together over his stomach. It was just like the ex-army doctor to make light of all that had happened recently. John always saw but he never observed. "We just need to be careful," Sherlock answered, doing his best not to sound as concerned as he felt deep down. 

Against Sherlock's back, John nodded in agreement. "Yes, alright… if it makes you feel better, we can lie low for a while," the doctor conceded. He let out a thoughtful sound and Sherlock wondered what his partner had suddenly figured out. "Yes," John continued, "yes, I think that's a great idea; lying low. We can stay here and explore other, more personal avenues of interest if you get my drift,".

_ More personal what…? _

Before he could mull the suggestion over too deeply, Sherlock felt John shifting slightly behind him and he pulled one of his hands free from Sherlock's grasp. He heard a slight rustling sound and Sherlock's ears pricked with interest. After a moment, John's hand returned only to dangle a flash of red in front of Sherlock's face before pressing whatever it was into Sherlock's still open hand.

"Come to bed, love" John whispered, coming up on his toes to drop a quick kiss just below Sherlock's ear before padding back down the hallway to their bedroom.

Sherlock glanced down at his hand and his eyes widened in interest as a deep wave of arousal washed over him. He swallowed hard and fingered the fabric of John's bright red pants, turning them over in his hand. 

_ 'Is it really Monday already?'  _ Sherlock mused to himself; a mischievous smile pricking at the corners of his lips. John Watson never ceased to amaze him and the thought of a very naked and very eager ex-soldier waiting for him in his bed made his cock twitch in interest. Well… who was he to keep the Captain waiting?


End file.
